The Broken Ones
by ChaoticReverie
Summary: In a world of so much darkness, the broken ones often come together.
1. The Hidden Gem

**Wanted to try writing something where Azog is not a complete monster. I mean… he is… but lemme see if I can smooth out some of those edges…**

 **Warnings: death, language, adult themes, dark themes**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit or any characters pertaining to it, or any other stories by Tolkien. Original characters are mine, and I am making no profit from writing this whatsoever (apart from sheer enjoyment).**

 **Chapter 1: The Hidden Gem**

Dunlir was hardly what one might label a 'settlement', the sparse cluster of decrepit buildings that lined the North-South Road more of a traveller's reprieve than a true village. Frederick held a handkerchief to his nose, the smell of rot and piss hanging thick in the damp air. Had it been a more tepid night he'd have insisted on bypassing the place completely, but the wind held a wicked bite, and the horses wouldn't fare well in it, nor would his driver.

He rapped sharply on the roof of the carriage. "This will do, Jedd."

The coachman pulled up to an inn – the only one to be seen. Frederick pushed the door wide, stepping out onto the mud-soaked planks of the threshold and tipping his head back to read the sign that hung just above.

' _The Jewel'_ … hardly an apt name for the place. He tucked his handkerchief into his pocket and turned back to accept his bag as it was handed to him.

"Thank you, my boy! I shall procure a pair of rooms for us while you bring the horses 'round to the stables."

Luggage in hand, he turned and entered, nodding to the gruff looking man who stood behind the bar, toweling out an empty glass. "Might you be the proprietor of this establishment, my good fellow?"

The man nodded and - glancing at his bag - inquired, "You need'n a room?"

"Two, actually. My companion Jedd will be along shortly."

He lifted a bushy brow. "Either one o' you wantin' a girl for the night?"

Frederick blinked in surprise, not having expected an inn of this size to double as a brothel.

The innkeeper nodded toward a girl in the corner, who was currently filling the other patron's mugs. Frederick frowned. 'A barmaid _and_ a whore?'

"Faye!"

The abrupt summons had her spinning quickly around, and Frederick found his distaste replaced with shock and wonderment. Coils of lovely golden hair spilled all around her shoulders, and wide, dark eyes filled with trepidation stared at him from a youthful face. The girl looked to be no older than twenty summers. Before he could wonder how such a beguiling creature had ended up in such a dank and dreary place the innkeeper shouted for her to come closer, and she did so with haste, head tucked low as she approached.

"Ain't she the prettiest thing ya ever seen?" the man leered, reaching out from behind the bar to slap her firmly on the rear.

The girl winced, her face flushing a deep red.

"Young, too. Ya don't find many this fresh."

The innkeeper's crude laughter ended in a fit of coughing, and Frederick took the moment to further assess the girl before him. She was so slight, likely from malnourishment, and her right eye was blackened from abuse. Yet despite all that she was clearly beautiful; a radiant flower growing amid filth. He imagined hers would be a story worth hearing.

"Yes, I think I will partake of some company," he told the innkeeper.

Clearing his throat, the grubby man asked, "Are you wantin' to see the others? We got a few more to choose from if ya prefer 'em broken in."

"No, no, this one will be fine."

"She'll cost ya a bit more," the innkeeper told him, scratching his bearded chin.

Frederick nodded and pulled a stack of coins from his purse. "Will this do?"

Glassy eyes bulging, the man scooped the money from the counter with a vigorous nod. "Let's get you to yer room."

He came out from behind the bar, leading them toward the back of the inn and into a dark hallway. The young girl followed hurriedly after him, not speaking a word as they entered a small room. There was a questionable looking bed on a tottery frame in the center of the room, a chair in one corner and a bucket in the other.

"Here ya are! Will yer friend be wantin' company?" the man inquired.

"No, that will be all. If you could direct him to his own room once he arrives I would be most appreciative."

He nodded. "If ya need anything else - a drink, a meal, another girl – you just give me a holler!"

Shutting the door with a sigh, Frederick turned to address the young lady, startled to find she'd already begun undressing. Laughing softly, he reached out and took hold of her hands. "No need for that, my dear. That's not what I'm after."

She gave him a questioning look.

He strolled around the room and sat in the lone chair, adjusting himself when it creaked a little under his weight. He gestured for her to have a seat on the bed if she so desired. "I merely want to chat."

Faye frowned, pulling the sleeves of her dress back into place. Men _never_ wanted to 'chat'. Then again, this man was rather different than most of the men who stayed at the inn. He was a little older, but appeared clean and – judging by his clothing – wealthy. His smile was pleasant, but she had learned long ago that a charming face could be very misleading. Being sure to keep an eye on him she stepped back toward the bed, settling herself on the dingy mattress.

"Your name is Faye?" he inquired.

She nodded.

"And how is it, Faye, that you came to be here? A lovely girl like you could have easily married." When her gaze fell to the floor in response to his question, he smiled. "You needn't answer. It is _your_ story to tell or to keep after all."

Again he surprised her, and she peered up at him through the part of her hair. He was so kind, this man, but what did he want from her? There was always a price to be paid, after all.

"Forgive my boldness, um… Sir?"

Realising he'd yet to introduce himself, he stood with a horrified gasp, pleading, "No, forgive me, young lady! For me to have so easily forgotten my manners! Seems my time on that rutted road might have jostled my senses!"

He tucked into a little bow, tipping his hat to her. "I am Frederick Thistlewood, but please, call me Frederick."

She composed herself, having been rather startled by his sudden and eccentric reaction. "Frederick… forgive my boldness, but if you do not want my company, might I ask what it is you are seeking?"

Her voice was so soft, but she was well-spoken; obviously not born into this lifestyle. He smiled at her sadly. "Do you wish to leave this place, my dear?"

Her reaction was a mix of surprise and panic, and her eyes darted swiftly to the door, as though she expected someone to burst through at any moment.

"You have my word; nothing you say will leave this room."

She seemed to think on the question for a while but then sighed, her shoulders drooping. "It does not matter what I want. This is my lot in life."

Frederick stepped toward her, noting the way her body seemed to stiffen in preparation. Moving slowly, he knelt before her, taking her trembling hand in his. "It does not have to be. I could take you away from this place."

She looked from his hand to his face, searching it for any traces of deception.

He smiled. "Your uncertainty is understandable, dear girl; life has been unkind to you. But the choice is yours to make, and I do not require an answer just now."

Standing again, he turned and made his way back toward the chair. Easing into it, he instructed her, "Think on it, would you? Give me your answer in the morning."

Faye stood to leave.

"You may stay and rest if you like. I imagine you are in need of a full night's sleep."

She stopped, turning back to look at him. He nodded to her and slid further into the chair, pulling his hat down to rest over his face. She remained there, studying him for some time until the light sounds of his snoring reached her ears. Slowly, carefully, she approached the bed, watching him all the while. When nothing changed she pulled the ratty coverlet back and settled herself on the mattress, resting her head on the thin pillow. She lay there for a short while longer, wondering over his offer.

Did he mean what he said? Could he possibly take her away from this awful place? She tried not to pay too much attention to the fluttering in her gut. Hope had never gotten her anywhere before. But… it was nice to imagine he meant it… and that he could take her away from this horrible place. Her eyelids grew heavy, and before long she was unable to fend off sleep any longer. That night she dreamt that the filthy grey walls of her cage fell away, and the blue sky stretched endlessly overhead.

 **Hum, hum. What do we think?**


	2. The Thistle

**Chapter 2: The Thistle**

Faye woke to a gentle hand on the shoulder, Frederick's smiling face the first sight that greeted her as she parted drowsy eyes.

"A good morning to you, young miss."

Gasping, she pulled herself upright, straightening her hair as she rambled, "Oh, I've overslept! He's going to beat me senseless!"

"Calm yourself," he urged with a wave of his hands. "You've done no wrong."

Standing, she shook her head, insisting, "Wes doesn't like it when we sleep too late. There's cleaning to be done."

"And what of my offer?" he reminded her softly, watching as she paused, her hands twisting in her threadbare skirts. "I will be taking my leave of this place just as soon as my coachman has readied the horses."

Faye considered it again. "Where… where is it you will be going? And what am I to be doing there?"

"I am travelling to Mabruk, a bustling trader's settlement in The Angle. As for what you might be doing upon arrival - that is something we can discuss during the trip."

Could she trust this man, who was a stranger? What might happen to her if she left with him? Perhaps his tastes ran toward something _else_ entirely. She'd heard tales of young women's bodies discovered along the Road, throats slit. Was that a risk she was willing to take?

Yet… what was left for her here should she stay? She would spend the remainder of her days in filth and misery until she was too old to be of any use. And then what? This could be her only chance.

"I'll go."

He smiled brilliantly. "Wonderful! You may gather your things and ready yourself, my dear! I will speak to the proprietor at once!"

Faye frowned. Would he _let_ her leave? "I… I do not know that Wes will let me go."

"You leave that to me," Frederick quipped as he adjusted his hat, stepping out of the room.

He strolled into the tavern, spotting the man scrubbing a tabletop near the front of the inn. "I would have a moment of your time!"

Wes glanced over his shoulder, chuckling at the look on the older man's face. He slung the rag over his shoulder. "Had yerself a good night, I see? Didn't I tell ya? That one's sweet as honey."

"Indeed you were correct, my good man! I am so pleased, in fact, that I would like to make you an offer on the girl!"

His smile disappeared instantly. "She's not fer sale."

Waving a hand, Frederick persisted, "Nonsense! Everything is for sale! How much would you ask for her?"

"Are you deaf, old man? She ain't fer sale!"

Reaching into his coat, he withdrew a fat coin pouch, upending its contents onto the table. He watched as Wes eyed the sizeable mound of gold greedily, his mouth hanging open. "I imagine you do not have many patrons, good sir, fewer yet who could afford the price for a night of that young lady's company. This should replace any additional funds she may have brought in."

Wes plopped down at the table, raking his fingers through the heap of money. Dumbstruck, he merely nodded his head.

"Excellent!" Frederick beamed, turning on his heal and heading again into the back hallway.

Faye was already waiting for him, a light shawl wrapped around her shoulders and an old book in her hand. She blushed. "I… don't have much."

He smiled at her. "Quite alright, my dear. Let's be on our way."

Retrieving his bag from the room he had occupied, Frederick wasted no more time in departing, tipping his hat to the innkeeper as they strode past. Jedd was waiting for them outside.

"Here you are," he called to the coachman, handing the boy his luggage. Once he'd finished strapping it atop the carriage, Frederick made the introductions. "This is Faye; she'll be joining us for the remainder of the trip. Faye, my dear, this strapping young man is Jedd."

He dipped his head and offered her a warm smile, opening the carriage door for them.

She nodded back, and after a moment's hesitation she accepted his proffered hand and stepped in. Frederick followed, seating himself across from her and letting out a pleased hum. The carriage jostled a moment later, the horses nickering as they set off at a light trot.

He observed the girl as they sat in tense silence, her nervousness nearly palpable. She kept looking out the window, and then down at her lap, her hands gripping the book she held fiercely. He gestured to it. "Do you read, my dear?"

She nodded.

"May I?" he inquired, hand outstretched.

She looked ready to refuse for a moment, but eventually handed it to him. It was a relatively small book, the leather binding worn from use. He opened it, flipping idly through the pages. Poetry mostly, along with the odd sketch.

"Did you do this?"

She shook her head. "My father did. He gave it to me when I was younger."

"He is a talented man," Frederick praised, closing it softly and handing it back to her. Most of her tension dissipated the moment it was back in her possession. "It must mean a great deal to you."

Again she nodded.

"Might I inquire about your age?" he questioned, thinking she looked even younger now than he'd originally surmised.

"Seventeen summers, sir."

He frowned, wondering again how such a young and lovely girl could have ended up in such a position. Then again, life's cruelties were not limited to the old and uncomely. He knew that all too well.

"Pardon me for asking, Frederick, but you said you were travelling to Mabruk. What… what awaits you there?" Faye asked him softly and suddenly, seeming almost fearful of his answer.

Removing his hat and placing it on the seat next to him, Frederick told her, "I own an establishment there, The Thistle."

"And what sort of business is conducted at your establishment?" she pressed.

"We cater to the needs of our patrons, whatever they might be," he told her truthfully, watching as understanding and then dread filled her. "Calm yourself, young miss. I think you misunderstand my intentions."

She frowned, casting her gaze out the window. "What I want is inconsequential. You bought me, after all; I will do as you bid."

He laughed softly, sadly. "Such a drear outlook, my dear; life has indeed been unkind to you. But I did not buy _you_ , Faye. I bought your freedom."

Her eyes were wide when she looked at him again, hopeful and questioning. It was then that he noticed they were not brown, as he'd originally suspected, but an uncommon shade of dark blue.

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because I _can_."

She thought she saw something sad pass over his expression, but it was gone an instant later, replaced with a warm smile.

"Henceforth your life is your own, and when we arrive in Mabruk you may do as you please. I will, however, extend an invitation to you now."

Faye took a shuddering breath, pushing aside her disbelief for a moment to give him her attention. She nodded for him to continue.

"The Thistle is nothing like _The_ _Jewel_ \- that awful, festering place. We provide only the best for our guests _and_ for our own. You would be well fed, well dressed, and would have a warm bed to call your own at the end of every day."

He paused, reaching slowly across the carriage to touch the bruise around her eye. " _This_ is unacceptable. No one will ever raise a hand to you so long as you are under my roof. You will be treated with dignity and will be respected. You will be safe."

She frowned. "Are there… other women there?"

He nodded. "Many, yes, but their lives are their own. I do not own slaves."

"And they _stay_?"

"Yes."

'Why? Why would anyone… want to do that?' she wondered, shaking her head. She didn't understand. "I… I very much appreciate what you have done for me, Mr. Thistlewood, but I… feel I must go."

"The choice is yours to make," Frederick told her again. "You may leave if that is your desire, but know that my offer will always stand should you change your mind."

The rest of the trip was spent in relative silence, the crunch of gravel under heavy hooves and the ring of birdsong the only constants. The sun had sunken nearly to the western horizon when a settlement came into view, the carriage jumping a little as they passed onto a bridge. The sounds of countless people milling reached them, along with myriad unfamiliar scents. It was like nothing she'd ever smelled before, she thought to herself as she leaned out the window to breathe deeply, catching hints of spice and sweetness, and of rich, smoky perfumes.

"Mabruk is the largest trading settlement this side of the Misty Mountains," Frederick told her. "Spice peddlers and bakers, blacksmiths and silk weavers. You can find just about anything here."

They travelled through a densely crowded area lined with stalls, and Faye looked on with interest as they passed each one. 'Merchant's Lane', she heard Frederick call it. The array of wares was staggering, the array of people even more so. She'd never seen so many different ethnicities before. Eventually they turned onto a wider road, the buildings that lined it in good repair. Across from them flowed the River Bruinen, and another sturdy bridge carried over to the other side. It was here that the carriage pulled to a slow stop.

"We've arrived, my dear," he told her enthusiastically. "Now, before you venture out to make your own way in the world, I insist that you come inside and get cleaned up. We'll draw you a nice bath, get you some proper clothing, and put some food in your belly."

She might have denied the offer, but after years of eating scraps and living in squalor the thought of hot food and a bath was too good to pass up. Nodding as Jedd pulled the door open, she accepted his hand and stepped out onto the road. "Thank you."

The young man smiled and tipped his head, turning again to unstrap the luggage. He certainly was a quiet one, she thought to herself.

"Come along," Frederick told her, motioning to the door of a charming establishment.

She followed him in, pleased to find it was just as lovely inside as it was outside. Everything about this place seemed luxurious, from the art on the walls and the hanging kerosene lanterns staggered between, to the massive, exotic rug that spanned nearly the entire floor. And so clean, too!

"Is that you, Freddie?" called a clear, feminine voice.

"Indeed it is, my darling Dotty! Back from my southern adventure!" he called merrily, removing his hat and coat.

"I'm surprised those barbaric Dunlendings didn't skin you alive. No amount of fur is worth that risky venture."

Faye stood awkwardly in the threshold as the exchange took place. The quiet thump of footsteps soon followed, and a shapely, pale-haired woman appeared from another room, pushing a dark curtain aside as she stepped through the doorway. They met eyes almost instantly, and the lady's red-painted lips pulled into a surprised pucker.

"As you can see, I found something far more interesting than fur on my trip," Frederick chuckled.

Recovering instantly, Dotty flapped her hands while instructing, "Don't just stand there, dearie! Come in, come in! Let us have a good look at you."

Faye approached slowly, thin fingers tightening on her shawl. She gasped in surprise when the outspoken woman reached out to clasp her face, turning her head from side to side. Thin, curved brows beetled, dark eyes narrowing as she took note of the mark around Faye's right eye.

"Oh, dearie… what a mess they've made," she tutted, stroking the girls' chin with her thumb.

"I found her in Dunlir, of all places," Frederick said as he settled into a smoking chair by the fireplace.

"Where?"

"Exactly my point," he chuckled, lighting a pipe.

There was a slight commotion in the adjacent room, and another woman emerged. This one was shorter, with a flash of wild, red hair and striking green eyes.

"What's this?!" she demanded.

"Signey, this is Faye," Frederick introduced. "She is in need of our hospitality."

Others began filing into the room as well, gathering around her. They were lovely, all of them. They moved with a cautious slowness, assessing her with looks of concern and understanding.

"So young," commented a tall, dark-haired one.

"And pretty," said another, her accent thick.

Faye felt mildly uncomfortable under so much scrutiny. The women seemed to notice, and they all smiled at her, stepping back to allow her space.

Signey turned from them, announcing, "I'm going to start boiling some water. Hulda, get her something to eat, would you?"

Most of the others departed as well, each with an apparent task in mind. She took a deep breath as the room fell into silence once more.

"I'll bet it's been a long day for you. Do you need a drink, dearie?" Dotty asked lowly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Faye shook her head. Spirits never sat well in her stomach, which was currently tied in knots anyway.

"Have a seat," she offered, pointing to a vacant chair before seating herself next to the older gentleman. Dotty smirked. "You just can't go on a trip without bringing back another stray, can you, Freddie?"

He huffed, smoke gusting from his lips. "Would you have it any other way?"

"Do you… travel often?" Faye asked as she settled into the plush cushion, Dotty's comment having roused her curiosity.

"I try to, yes, though obligation often holds me back. Yet, when we find ourselves in need of something that is not readily available in Mabruk, I relish the opportunity to strike out and explore new places, meet new people!"

"As though we _needed_ those furs," Dotty scoffed. "Or any of the treasures you bring home, for that matter!"

He took a long draw from his pipe, smiling around the bit. "I felt they would suit the room at the end of the hall."

"And you had to go all the way to Dunland for them?"

"Dunlendings _are_ the masters of fur, and since they refuse to peddle here, it only made sense that I should go to them."

Their friendly banter carried on, and Faye found herself staring into the licking flames, her body suddenly very heavy. Only a day ago she had thought to spend the rest of her life as a whore in that dank inn, and now here she sat, surrounded by kind people and all manner of luxuries, free to do as she pleased. This was all too surreal.

She wasn't sure how much time she'd spent gazing into the fire before someone touched her shoulder. Faye looked up into the face of the dark-haired woman - Hulda, she recalled.

"Here," she offered, extending a bowl of steaming, delicious smelling stew. "It's venison."

Taking the dish with a grateful nod she cradled it in her lap, breathing in the delightful aroma. When was the last time she'd eaten anything other than stale bread-ends? She couldn't be certain. When she took that first bite her stomach rumbled approvingly, the combination of rich flavors the most exquisite thing she'd eaten in years. A happy smile curled her lips.

"Thank you," she sighed.

"You are most welcome," Hulda replied. "There is more if you are still hungry."

She could tell the others were watching her as she ate, but couldn't bring herself to care any longer. She was just so hungry. When the bowl was empty she handed it back. "I couldn't possibly eat another bite."

"Then how about a soak?" Signey asked, poking her head through the curtain.

Faye glanced at Frederick, who smiled at her and swept his hand toward the adjoining doorway, instructing her to follow. She stood and headed into the next room, sweeping aside the curtain as she went.

This room was larger and clearly meant for lounging. Settees and armchairs were placed strategically throughout; some huddled around tea tables while others flanked an impressive liquor cabinet. The room was enticing, and she imagined it appealed to all sorts.

She followed the shorter woman through this room and down a hall, passing what appeared to be a kitchen of sorts before turning into another doorway. A bedroom, she noted immediately, swathed in dark colours with rich wood accents. In the corner was a high wooden tub filled half-way with steaming water. Another woman, the one with the accent, was kneeling next to it, arranging a tray of brushes and oils.

"Oyna can help you with your hair. Now, off with those dreadful rags. We'll get you into something more suitable," Signey directed.

"This… this is too much," Faye insisted, feeling she'd done nothing to deserve any of this.

She shook her head, brilliant red ringlets bobbing as she did so. "No, it isn't. This is what we do here; we give people what they need. And you, dear girl, _need_ to let us take care of you, because it's painfully obvious that no one has done that for a long time. Now, no more arguing; off with 'em!"

Deciding it best not to feud with her hosts, Faye approached a dresser and placed her book on top of it before stripping out of her old dress.

Signey frowned as she took in the girl's appearance, the bruises that dotted her pale body ranging in colour from sickly yellow to deep and vibrant purple. And thin… far too thin. Huffing, she reached out and took the ragged clothes from her outstretched hand, her expression sad as she turned and exited.

"Come," Oyna told her, patting the rim of the tub.

Doing as she was told, Faye stepped over the lip and slowly dipped a foot into the water, the heat making her wince. Yet she pressed on, stepping in completely and then slowly sinking down. It burned, but it was a pleasant feeling, one she had not experienced in some time. She was usually so cold, and she could practically feel the hot water stripping the grime from her skin. She sighed as she settled back.

"Which do you like?"

Faye glanced down at the tray, studying the tiny vials with uncertainty. "I don't really know."

Oyna smiled, uncapping one bottle and handing it to her. "Lavender."

She took a tentative sniff, enjoying the light floral smell. Second and third bottles were offered to her as well, jasmine and cinnamon. "I think I like the first."

"A soft scent; it suits you," she agreed with a nod.

There was a basket with a washcloth on the rim of the tub, and she reached out to claim it. A small bar of soap was hidden underneath, smelling faintly of pine. She began gently enough, but memories of dirty, rough hands came rushing back, and she scrubbed harder, wishing she could peel her skin off completely.

"Not hard," Oyna scolded, reaching out and touching a bruise on her arm. "You make them worse."

Faye sighed, consenting with a nod. It hadn't helped anyway. She didn't know that she would ever be rid of that feeling – the sensation of being dirty, _spoiled_.

"Head back."

Tilting back as instructed, she closed her eyes as a ladle of water was poured over her hair, followed by several more. Then she was maneuvered to the edge of the tub, and Oyna's nimble fingers massaged the oil carefully into her sopping strands. The fragrance wafted to her nose, pleasant and soothing. After several more minutes of pampering and brushing, the exotic woman assisted her out of the tub, toweling her dry and offering a warm robe.

By this point, two other women – twins, Faye realized – had entered the room and had arranged a variety of garments on the bed.

"Something pale, I think," said one of them.

"Yes," the other agreed, choosing a soft green dress and holding it up against her. "Lovely."

Leaving the decided article behind, along with a chemise and a pair of boots, they gathered up the rest and left. Slipping out of the robe she pulled the shift on, allowing Oyna to help her with the dress afterward. It was soft and cool on her skin, worlds apart from the thin, course material of her previous attire.

Once Oyna had laced up the back for her, she motioned to the vanity Faye had placed her book on, telling her to sit. As she did she chanced a look into the large mirror surmounting the dresser, deciding the dress was indeed lovely. This Frederick must have been in possession of a great deal of wealth, judging by what she'd seen since her arrival. She'd never heard of a brothel with such luxuries.

"We do something about this," Oyna hummed as she touched the side of her face tentatively. She opened one of the many small pots arranged across the vanity, dipping her finger into a pale, pasty substance. She waited for Faye to tilt her head to the side before smearing it carefully under her eye, her touch gentle as she dabbed it over the bruise. She assessed her work carefully. "Better."

When Faye looked at herself in the mirror again, she noted that the mark was far less noticeable.

"It is good. You and Signey have the same skin," Oyna laughed to herself, her fingers playing through the damp strands of the girl's hair. She took up a hank from each side of her face and began braiding, joining the two pieces at the back.

Faye felt a bittersweet smile pull at her lips; the last person to have braided her hair was her mother. She withheld tears, not wanting the woman's previous efforts to be wasted. The boots that had been left for her had a set of small stockings in them, just high enough to go past her ankle, with beautiful lacy frills along the top.

Fully dressed, she collected her book and turned to Oyna, following along when the exotic woman headed back the way they came.

"Oh dearie, much better," cooed Dotty when she saw the girl, reaching out to pluck at one of her sleeves. "Green suits you."

Frederick approached with a smile, taking one of her hands and placing a small satchel into it. The contents jingled tellingly. "To get you started."

She looked down at the purse of money and then back up to his face, fighting off tears once more. Her gaze flitted from face to face before returning Frederick's once more. "I… don't know how to thank you enough. I've nothing to offer you for all of your kindness."

"Your gratitude is reward enough, dear girl," he responded.

She looked around the room again, finding some of the women from earlier were missing. "The others…"

"Hulda, May, and Yusraa are occupied with guests at the moment. I will be sure to pass along your gratitude," he assured her.

"Let's get you a proper covering," Signey offered, pulling a brown fur stole from a hook by the curtain.

"Is this yours?"

"It is, but not to worry, I can have a new one made. We've got loads of furs now, it would seem," the redhead chuckled.

"Heaps of furs," Dotty agreed with a laugh, giving Frederick a little jostle with her hip.

Faye watched the scene with a smile, feeling genuinely comfortable for the first time in a long time. These people offered such pleasant company… she was almost sad to leave.

Signey caught the look. "The door is always open, so don't be a stranger."

She smiled, nodding when something warm blossomed in her chest at the notion of seeing them again.

They all saw her to the door, and Frederick clasped her hands in his. "The best of luck to you, young lady, and do remember my offer. There will always be a place for you here should you wish to stay."

Faye nodded, finding that the idea did not seem so disagreeable anymore. But she had her freedom now, for the first time in many years, and that was not something she was prepared to squander. She bid them goodbye and pushed the door open, stepping out into the street.

Signey was the first to speak again after she departed. "How long do you think she'll last?"

Frederick frowned. "We do not joke about such things. Perhaps this one will be different; perhaps she will find her way."

"We can only hope," sighed Dotty, though she knew well that the world was cold, and there was little room in it for people like them. The lonely. The broken.


	3. A Home

**Chapter 3: A Home**

The sky grew darker, but the streets continued to swell with life. She made her way down the road the carriage had travelled, back toward Merchant's Lane. While the coin given to her by Frederick would be enough to feed and shelter her for a few nights, she would need to find her own way soon enough. To do that, she needed to find work. This place, the center of trade in Mabruk, was as good a place to look for it as any.

She approached the first stall, baskets of fragrant spices scattered all around it. The peddler called out to her in a thickly accented tongue.

"I am not here to buy," she began. "I am looking for work."

He frowned, shaking his head as he shooed her away, reaching out to the next passerby.

Faye sighed, moving past him and onto the next merchant. The result was much of the same. Over and over they pushed her away, sometimes quite literally, and as she strode her hope dwindled.

'Perhaps this is not the best place to search for work,' she thought to herself, trying to bolster her fading morale. Yet, she had few skills to offer. She was not strong enough to labour, and not trained in any trade. 'But I can cook… maybe a tavern, or an inn.'

So she passed Merchant's Lane and soon enough spied what looked like a pub. A group of rowdy looking men were gathered by the door, and she slid past them quickly, ignoring the crude remarks and catcalls they made. It was crowded inside, raucous laughter booming from every corner of the room.

Faye approached the bar, smiling at the young man behind it. "Are you the owner?"

He shook his head, motioning with his chin toward a taller, bald-headed man near the back.

She made her way there, weaving through the drunken throng until she came upon him. "Excuse me, sir?"

The man turned to her.

"Are you in need of a cook, or perhaps a barmaid?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "My wife's a fine cook, and I've seven children who work and live under this roof. There's no room for anymore, and I don't give handouts."

"But-"

He took a quick step toward her, brows furrowed as he snapped, "I'm not looking! Off with ya! I won't have you troubling my customers!"

"That is not my intention," she insisted.

"Then either buy a drink or get the hell out!" he growled.

Swallowing the thick lump in her throat, Faye turned and made hastily for the exit, a scowl marring her lips. The same group that had harassed her upon entering shouted to her as she left, one of them reaching out and snagging her wrist.

"Why the sour face, love? Stay awhile and I'll give you somethin' to smile about," he slurred suggestively, his grip on her tightening.

The others chuckled as she struggled, snatching her arm away. Straightening her stole she hissed, "Do not touch me!"

"You're lippy for a whore."

"I'm not a whore!"

"Really?" another man asked slyly. "Where's yer husband, then? Or your father? What kind of man would let a pretty thing like you out 'ere all alone at this late hour?"

Sorrow and self-loathing curled through her as painful memories from her past swelled to the surface again. Tears pricked her eyes. "I don't… my family is-"

"No father? No husband? Then where'd ya get them bruises from, ay?"

She paled, not having thought anyone would see the marks through her makeup. She recalled the rough, dirty hands that had struck her.

"That's what I thought. I'll bet you've been fucked by plenty o' men. What's a few more, ay? We'll pay."

Scowling, she reiterated, "I am _not_ a whore. And I don't need your money. I have my own!"

"Where'd ya get it from? You earn it suckin' cock?" a third snorted, his remark making the other's howl with laughter.

Repulsed and humiliated she turned and stormed away, glancing back over her shoulder to ensure they were not following. Luckily they seemed too intoxicated to pursue her. She sniffled, wiping away the wetness that had tracked down her left cheek.

Not too far down the road she came upon an inn and was pleased to find the entry room vacant save a thin man standing behind a counter. She took a steadying breath and approached him. "Sir… I have only just arrived in this settlement, and I am looking for work."

He glanced at her with his dark eyes, his gaze lingering on her face and then trailing down her body. He shook his head. "We don't allow that in here. If you're lookin' for a place to go, there's an alley just down the road where your sort gather, and-"

"Forgive my interruption, but that isn't what I meant. I was hoping you might have need of someone to clean or to cook."

He seemed surprised by the statement, his eyes sweeping over her again.

A stout woman emerged from the door behind him. She took one look at Faye and spat, "No whores!"

"I'm _not_ a whore."

"Lies! I know a whore when I see one! Throwin' on a pretty dress doesn't make you a lady. You're filth!"

She fought back more tears at the remark. "You misunderstand! I'm looking for honest work!"

"Don't trust 'er," said the dour looking woman to the man behind the counter. "She'll rob us blind in the night. They're thieves and liars, every last one of 'em!"

"I would never do such a thing!" Faye insisted, horrified at the insinuation. Why were these people so hostile toward her? She'd done them no wrong?

"Go on now, back to whore alley with you!" the woman demanded, waving pudgy hands toward the door.

The young girl turned and went, her mind reeling with shock. Was it truly so obvious to the people around her? She glanced at herself as she passed by a window, and through the facade of finery given to her by Frederick and the others she could see it: the pale shadow of a once vibrant girl. Her cheeks were hollowed, her eyes despondent. Is this what people saw when they looked at her? This broken creature?

She noticed the looks others were giving her as she passed them. Some glared with disgust and disdain, turning their noses up at her as though she were some kind of disease riddled vagrant. Others were looking at her darkly, with lust clouding their eyes. She could practically feel their intent. Fear coiled through her gut.

Faye choked on a sob, gathering up her skirts and rushing away. What could she do now? She couldn't travel. There was no way she would make it to the next town alone. And if she did, would the results be the same? Would they know? How was she to make her way in life when no one would help her? They looked at her and saw only her sins, and wanted nothing to do with her.

* * *

The hour was late, and Frederick stifled a yawn as he stoked the fire. The girls were scattered around the room, some chatting amiably while the others sat in silence. They all turned when they heard the door creak open.

Signey eyed the shivering figure sadly, rising from her chair to meet the girl. Faye all but collapsed into her arms. "Come along, love. Let's get you settled over here where it's warm."

Sniffling as she was maneuvered into a chair by the fireplace, Faye shook her head, blinking wide, watery eyes as she uttered lowly, "I don't understand. No one… no one would help me. Why?"

Signey stroked her back gently as she wept. "It's not your fault. They don't know what we've been through, they don't understand our plight. To them… we are shamed women, and there is little room for us in their world.

"What am I to do now?" she whispered, never having felt quite so lost. She finally had her freedom, but it seemed there was no place for her in the world any longer.

"Don't give up," Dotty told her. "Those people out there, the ones who turned you away, don't give them the satisfaction of seeing you fall. Be strong and you will find your own way. You don't need their help."

"I'm sorry you had to be put through that, but sometimes it is best to see for yourself just how cold the world is," Signey uttered lowly. "You know that there is a place for you here; a safe place? Why not stay?"

Faye regarded them all with watery eyes. They were so kind, but was this really the place she wanted to settle? Right back into a role she had only just freed herself from. "How is this any better?"

Yusraa smiled sadly, reaching out to grip her twin's hand. "You're not like us, I can tell. For us, this life is all we've ever known… but it was worse before; far worse. Before we came here we were property. We had never known freedom, had never been taught anything different. Now we have a choice. We stay because we want to stay."

May nodded. "This life - this place - it offers its own freedoms. The door is never locked, and we are able to come and go as we please. We take care of one another; we're a family. Freddie saved us."

Faye glanced at the man, wondering over his reasons. "Why? Why do you do it?"

He stepped away from the fire, leaning the poker against the mantle. "I was once a slave myself," he admitted, moving to stand closer to the girls. "My master was a vastly wealthy man, but he was cruel and depraved, and mistrustful of everyone. He had few servants, and no family. He felt that anyone who tried to get close to him was only attempting to rob him of his wealth."

A look of mixed amusement and disgust crossed his face then. "Heh, and he was likely correct. He was a deplorable beast of a man, fat and ill-tempered. I couldn't imagine anyone _wanting_ to be close to him. He kept company with a scarce few men, and they were every bit as perverse as he was; rich drunkards without morals."

The young girl clutched tightly at her covering as his expression pinch in pain, and her own horrid memories began trickling back. She pushed them away, waiting for him to continue.

"He used to _share_ us with them, and if we struggled or protested… we were punished. When I was fourteen I watched a girl get beaten to death for resisting when they tried to rape her. For years we suffered, working ourselves nearly to death while fearing for our lives."

Frederick laughed then, a bitter sound. "One night I was feeding the horses and another servant – a young girl named Morwen – came to me. She told me that our master was dead, having choked while gorging himself during the evening meal - a most fitting end for such a gluttonous man. I remember returning to the house, seeing him lying on the dining room floor, his face blue and his eyes red from strain. I remember the shock, the joy… I was free. Each of us took a pair of horses and loaded them with as much coin and as many valuables as they could carry… and we left. We considered it payment for a life of drudgery and pain."

Faye watched him as he spoke; now understanding the sadness she had read in his expression before. He had experienced his own horrors; he knew what she had gone through. Yet… why would someone who'd lived as a slave open a brothel? She decided to ask him. "Why did you create The Thistle? It… seems rather odd."

He smiled at her. "I suppose I could have used the money to buy myself a property somewhere quiet… but all I could think about was that poor young girl… about how she had died for nothing, and I knew there were so many more of us out there who would meet the same fate. I got lucky… but most will never be given the chance that I was given. Most of them will never gain their freedom. Many are too afraid to even try… because it is as they have told you. This life is all we have ever known, and finding your place in the world is hard when there is no one to help you."

He spread his hands. "I wanted to give them the chance that I was given. That is why I built this place, to offer others like me a way out. A place where they can feel safe, a place where they can get the help they need to one day make it on their own."

She pulled her fingers through the thick, mottled fur, asking softly, "So… eventually… people leave this place?"

"If that's what they want," Dotty spoke up. "To some of us this is home, but there have been many others who have moved on."

"And… they're happy?"

Dotty smiled at her. "We hope so. We don't always hear from them again after they go… but some of them write… or come back to visit from time to time."

"What do they do… once they leave?"

"Whatever they want. Millie – she was young, like you – she has a bakery in Bree now. And Darla married; she and her husband have a chicken farm up north, by the East Road," the older woman went on, smiling wistfully. "She's expecting her first by the time the snow falls."

Signey turned and knelt by Faye's side then. She placed a hand on the girl's trembling fingers. "The choice is yours to make, no one can make it for you, but you're welcome to stay if you want to. We'll take care of you. We'll help you find whatever it is that you're looking for, whether it's a home… or a way out."

Faye considered her words, weighing them carefully. After everything that had happened to her… it was so hard to trust again. "I'm… I'm afraid."

"We all were," Signey whispered. "There's no shame in that. We're not here to judge you."

She looked around the room at the patient faces that surrounded her, feeling a sense of belonging. She hadn't felt that way in years, not since she'd left home. Perhaps… perhaps this truly was the best place for her now, at least until she found another way. These people… they were good people. They would help her.

Decided, she looked at Frederick with tired eyes and told him that she would stay.

"Well then," he said with a gentle smile, "we'd best get you settled. Welcome home, Faye."


End file.
